


Crossing the River

by Theatrhythm



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Astronomy, Constellations, Day 10, F/M, Fluff, Folklore, Stargazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 03:35:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8649943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theatrhythm/pseuds/Theatrhythm
Summary: With such a clear view of the space station, who wouldn't go stargazing? After all, it might be their last night on Earth.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Set near the end of Day 10.
> 
> I have something really angsty in the works, but I don't want to shoehorn myself into Suffering™ all the time, so here's something sweeter I hope. ( ´ ▽ ` )b

  
"Looking up at the space station?"

The low voice comes from behind her; she blinks and turns, cocking her head. She's curled up by the window overlooking the lush forest grounds, eyes trained through the glass at the darkening sky. She tugs the blanket around her more tightly. It isn't particularly comfortable - the material itches her skin - but the thick wool helps ward the cold.

Seven is standing adjacent to her now, his hand resting on the back of the chair. Since arriving for the night, he's been ignoring nearly everything external - the biting chill of the dropping temperature, the cacophony of crickets sounding outside the wooden walls, the creak of the floorboards with every step and the swirl of dust dancing around them with every disturbance - remaining wholly focused on her whenever not absorbed by his phone. His attention is only punctuated by a few moments of distance wherein he disconnects, eyes focusing on something far-off he can't see. _Missing his other half._

He spent the day driving 'til dusk with an aching heart, his body weary while his mind races. The only comfort she can provide is grounding him to reality, whether through a brief squeeze of his hand or a soft voice calling him back to the present.

"I thought you were passed out, what with how tired you must be," she comments mildly, frowning. "Are you okay?"

"Can't sleep," he says.

She shouldn't be surprised. He's maddeningly underfoot, and she's anxious; it's a cocktail for a restless night. "Me neither. Guess we're in for a _very_ long night together."

"Oh _wow_. Can you transcribe that sentence _exactly_? I want Zen to read it, in the chat, like, ASAP."

She winks theatrically. "So what was that about the space station?" 

He leans over her from behind, prods one finger to the window pane. With her eyes following, he drags it across the glass it up to a single point in the horizon, one illuminating light hanging in the sky. He taps it twice. "That, right there. That's the space station."

"How do you know?"

"The light's steady so it's pretty easy to tell. It's the brightest thing in the sky, next to the moon. Anyway," he continues, sliding his finger to a few other points, "there are other smaller things up here that aren't natural, too. Satellites orbiting. You can _sometimes_ tell which things are man-made, and which are just regular old stars."

"Can you see it all from here?"

He grins down at her, holds out his hand. An offer. "We could go outside to check, if you like."

She blinks, hesitates. "Go out? Is this really the best time, though?"

"It may be the only time we have to do this," he says, voice soft, eyes softer. "We _are_ safe here. I would prefer you sleep, but if you can't, there's not much I can do. And, well," his cheeks tinge, eyes flickering away, "with you, it might be easier. To relax, before everything."

Her fingers curl around his, an answer.

 

* * *

 

"Those three right there? That's supposed to make a lady." His voice chimes bright, echoing through the tree tops in the stilled night air.

They're on their backs, laying side-by-side and nestled in a patch of grass, stretching a ways from the cabin with their hands still linked. His are _ridiculously_ cold, and she would complain about his poor circulation if she wasn't so adverse to releasing her hold. It's nice, this. His thumb is stroking hers gently while the other hand is stretched above them both, his index finger tracing patterns with quick strokes.

They're so high and far enough from any fluorescence of the city, the view is clearer than anything she could have dreamed to see from her bedroom. Most stars seemed so _scarce_ to her from home, occasional flecks of light dotting the sky if you looked hard and long enough, a chore in and of itself. From _here_ though, they're bountiful, weaving a complex web of constellations and distant glimmers spread across a broad canvas, so numerous they seemed to wink and swirl in a dance that leaves her dizzy. Seven points out with confidence what he could only vaguely gesture towards from the window. The bright glow of the space station and, smaller still, the unnatural specks that are satellites. The red speck in the distance, Mars, visible to the naked eye. Venus and Mercury, hanging low by the moon.

"Over there, that's her. Zhinu." He points up at one pocket above them. Recites their names. Vega and Epsilon and Zeta Lyrae. Visible in the summer months.

She wolf-whistles appreciatively. He nudges her with a chuckle.

Vega - Zhinu - is in love with the star Altair, he explains earnestly. Housed on the other side of the world, across the Milky Way. The two are different classes altogether, she a celestial weaver and he a simple cow herder. She could string together clothes fit for the deities, vivid hues in silks and satin to paint the stratosphere in rolling fields of color. But in the end, she chose to share herself with a man who had nothing to offer.

"She could have been happier, if she wanted. It was foolish of her to choose him, but she loved him anyway." His voice is even and low as he regales her. He squeezes her fingers a little, shuffles his body a little closer, and her heart warms a few degrees.

"Why would she not be happy with her choice? Being romantic isn't a sin, you know," she remarks.

He turns his head to her and grins, waggles his finger with exaggerated flair. "There's always some twisted tragic moral to these things, y'know! They were _so_ focused on each other, they ignored their responsibilities, so they were exiled to opposite sides of the galaxy as punishment. They could meet only one night each year, in the summer, crossing the constellations on a river of magpies."

"The reunion sex was probably worth it," she says, grinning back.

"Saucy, you are, when I'm trying to spin a pretty little cautionary tale for you," he says with a dramatic sigh, flopping his arm above him onto the grass.

She prods him in the ribs, earning her a whine and a squirm. "So how do you know these kinds of stories? Are you just an astronomy buff showing off?"

"I am _very_ buff. But no. It caught my interest because the night they meet is on the seventh of July. _Seven-Zero-Seven._ Fancy that, right?" He pauses. "And I had to make an obvious comparison, what with our present circumstances."

"Is this where you break up with me for my own good, Altair? If you do, you're sleeping outside."

" _Nooooo,_ " he laughs, propping himself up on his elbows. He reaches over to brush her bangs out of her eyes, lips quirked in a smile as he regards her fondly. "It's not _my_ fault the Chinese legend is shockingly analogous to our relationship."

"It's only analogous if you're a pessimist with super low self-esteem," she quips, but her eyes are serious, probing.

"I'm _both_ those things, babe. I've only recently decided to go to the monthly anonymous meetings. To make me into a better man. For _you_!"

She relaxes again and laughs, rolls over onto her side and scoots closer to wrap an arm around his torso, resting her head against his chest. He pulls her into him and lays back again, exhaling.

"I didn't think I could ever be happy with someone, you know," he admits. "I never really let myself do anything more than imagine it."

"Did you let your imagination run _wiiiiild_?" She arches her head back to waggle her eyebrows at him suggestively.

"I did. You walked around pantsless a _lot_ ," he sniffs. "My poor libido."

"I'm not judging you for watching," she says, grinning coquettishly. "Just being smug."

"Quiet, minx. The _point_ is, I never expected this... This sort of companionship, to be in the cards for me." He pulls her in a little tighter. "I've never really owned much aside from the skin on my back. Everything else is a product of what other people provided. I was always a burden. To everyone. My mother, father, even Rika and V."

"You're not a burden, Saeyoung," she interjects quietly.

"I know." He smiles. "Not anymore. You made me believe that, and I'm grateful and all. I have something - _someone_ \- I chose, who, unbelievably enough, chose me back. That's what makes it so scary. I'm afraid for tomorrow, and from now on. Now I have something to _lose_."

"You won't lose me."

"And maybe Altair thought he wouldn't lose Zhinu, but he did," he says, voice light, though it doesn't quite meet his eyes. "We don't choose our fates, babe."

She pushes herself up off his chest, twisting herself to face him, her eyes dark and swirling and mixed into a constellation of gold reflected in his own. She leans forward swiftly, pressing her lips to his forehead, lingering for a brief moment, before pulling back, her expression fierce. "You will _not_. There are a million ways tomorrow will pan out, Saeyoung, but that's not one of them. I'll protect you, I promise."

" _Ugh._ " He groans, leans his head back against the grass. "You're not supposed to protect _me_. Don't say such irresponsibly sweet things like that."

"Hey, I'm _not_ just blowing smoke up your ass."

He makes a face. "Okay, less sweet. Look, _please_ don't be a martyr or anything tomorrow. I'll be fine if you can promise not to do something stupidly self-sacrificial, okay?" A hint of desperation. 

"Did you think I was planning on sacrificing myself?" she asks cheekily, resting her chin back against his chest and arching an eyebrow. "The only thing I _plan_  is to live a long and happy life with you. You, me, our fifty cats..." She pauses. "...And your brother. All of us living together, happily ever after. That's the kind of future I'm excited about, and you should be, too. I'll make it happen. Just you wait and see!"

She beams at him, clearly satisfied with her speech, and he groans again, covering his eyes with his arm. How can she say such things with such ease and self-assurance. At this rate, he's going to believe her. At this rate, his heart is going to _explode._

"Actually," she adds, glancing away thoughtfully, "I'd like a few dogs too. I'm kind of a dog person. I hope that's not a problem, because if it is, it's _kind_ of a dealbrea-"

His hand is on the back of her neck as he tugs her to him, lips planting firm against hers, and she makes a muffled sound of surprise, followed by one of approval. She melts against him, sighing against his mouth and pressing back with equal fervor.

His fingers brush against the nape of her neck, stroke the small wisps of hair, move to trace her jawline, before settling on her face to cup her cheek. One of her hands is planted on the grass to his side, fingers tangled into the blades of grass, while the other rests on his chest, curling into the fabric of his shirt. Their mouths move languidly against one another, gasps and puffs of breath steaming in the frigid night air.

" _Saeyoung..._ " she breathes, lips still brushing his.

He makes a strangled sound and pulls her firmer to him, palm moving to the small of her back. She lets out a small whine, hooking her arms around his neck and pressing herself flush against him, bearing down _hard_ in turn, her skin hot, her touch hotter. He can feel his own heart pounding in his ribcage, heat crawling up his neck, burning under his skin, shooting through his stomach.

It's good, it's so good, but he's rapidly spiraling out of his good _sense_ , so - despite her noise of protest - he pulls back, both of them panting, breaths still mingling together.

She bumps her forehead against his. "Um. Wow. That was..."

"...Nice," he finishes, voice weak, swallowing thickly. "Maybe this... Isn't the place, though. We should... Head back. Get some rest. For tomorrow."

"Oh." She nods and bites her lip - now reddened and swollen, he notes, with some pride. "Right."

He leans forward again to peck her on the lips, chaste and tender, before propping himself up again; she scoots off of him and immediately moves to stand, her expression a mix of embarrassment and satisfaction. Before she can get out of reach, though, he grabs her hand, linking their fingers together again firmly.

Her cheeks flush pink, and he grins smugly. "Don't tease me, you butt," she mutters, tugging him to his feet.

He wipes his jeans, pats himself down, then turns to face her. "Thanks," he says, honestly.

She cocks her head, puzzled. "For what?"

"That folktale. Stories like that, well. It's silly, but they're kind of my mental go-to reference, for rejecting people, or they were until now. I thought they were insane, the stars. To risk losing everything for each other. But I..." He reddens a little. "Not that I'm going to abandon responsibility, but I think I'm starting to see their side of things."

She blinks. Then smiles, a slow spread across her face, expression shining, eyes glittering, specks twinkling in his vision, dazzling in the low light, the epicenter of his universe. The brightest star. And he thinks that maybe, she could give the space station a run for its money.

**Author's Note:**

> Quick disclaimer, I have very few astronomy dregs of knowledge to draw from so don't grill me too hard on being such a total amateur. I'm tryin~ ( ；∀；)
> 
> I wasn't aware that the day of reuniting in the Weaving Girl tale is on 7/07, though. Pretty neat how that worked out for me here, ha ha.


End file.
